Mystique and Magneto's Great Culinary Carper
By Persephone
AN: Thanks to Red Witch, Eileen, the Desert Fox, todd fan, and Kelly for your wonderful reviews! As always, they make me a happy bunny. By the way, Desert Fox, the name Rascals did come from Spanky and the Little Rascals. I kind of think of Remy as AlfAlfa... I meant to get this out a little sooner, I've been aiming for a chapter a week, and this one is a day late. Mainly because I've just started spring term, and am at present being overwhelmed with knowledge of Islam and the Old Testament...And I'm not even a religions major. I'm going to quit rambling on now, sorry about that.
So! On with the chapter!
Chapter Four: Of Frozen Pork and Helmets
Finally, finally, 7:45 rolled around, and with that illustrious hour the doorbell rang, because, as I'm sure you all remember, the Brotherhood was standing outside.
Magneto went to open the door himself. Most likely, he had gotten bored sitting in the same position for an hour and forty-five minutes, but he preferred to think that he was doing his host duties.
To Magneto's credit, he only blinked twice and opened his mouth agape four times when he opened the door and saw Charlie, in his giant sombrero, standing on the doorstep holding Bob Marley and singing a little ditty about a monk. (This ditty in limerick form can be viewed, coincidently, on this very website, under the title The Monk, by Persephone.)
Mystique pushed past both Charlie and Magneto, flopped in a chair at the dining table, and requested a strong drink. The Rascals, to their credit, acted as if this was usual. Although, perhaps it was. The rest of the Brotherhood followed suit, though they did not receive strong drinks, for which they were sorely disappointed.
Charlie stopped singing, stuck out the hand that wasn't holding Bob Marley, and announced, "I have come to eat your food."
Magneto glared like a spoiled three year old. "You weren't invited."
Charlie stared at the helmeted mutant for several long minutes. Time stretched out, and stretched further still, and was finally at time's elastic end when Magneto yelled out, "Fine! You're invited!"
"Why, thank you, Mr..."
"I am Magneto. I will someday unite all mutants under my guidance, and we will overpower the weak humans, and I will rule the world." Magneto said in a booming, super-supervillian voice.
"Oh. So you want to be like Hitler." Charlie said, smiling, as he pushed into the Evil Lair.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Magneto shrieked (in the most dignified way possible, of course.)
The Brotherhood and the Rascals stared aghast (Isn't "aghast" quite possible the coolest word in the English language? Nowhere near as cool as nefarious, of course, but still. Aghast is waaaaaay up there on the cool word meter. Opposed to words like ginger or tomorrow. Aghast has style. I'm just going to have to start this paragraph over now.)
The Brotherhood and the Rascals stared aghast as Magneto stormed into the dining room, following a scruffy looking man in denim and flannel wearing a large sombrero, screaming at the top of his lungs like a little girl about how few things he had in common with Adolf Hitler.
I daresay you'd stare aghast, also, when faced with such a sight.
Charlie, however, was not phased by the maniacal madman's ranting and raving, and instead sat down at the large dining room table across from Victor, who greeted Charlie like an old friend. Which I suppose he was.
"What are you going on about?" Mystique asked Magneto finally, when the helmeted man finally took a breather from his rant.
"HE," Magneto said, pointing a shaking finger at Charlie, "had the gall to accuse me of wanting to be like Hitler!"
There was a long pause.
The Brotherhood and Rascals looked at one another, until finally someone got up the nerve to speak.
"Um, don't you?" Pietro asked meekly.
"NO!" boomed Magneto. "I am the concentration camp survivor! Remember? I hate Hitler and all he stands for!"
There was another long pause as every member of the mutant brigade carefully weighed this revelation, and came up to their own personal conclusion about what it meant to them, and how it affected their perception of Magneto as an individual.
They all, however, came to the same conclusion.
"Hypocrite." announced Wanda. Everyone else in the room breathed a sigh of relief when they realized they hadn't been the one to speak.
So with that, Magneto leapt towards Wanda, face screwed up in absolute fury, while Wanda smiled ferally and raised her hands up slowly, preparing to hex the heck out of her father. However, she found this unnecessary when Magneto, during his leap of fury, had caught his toe in his cape, and had fallen in a rather undignified heap at her feet. She settled for a good, swift kick in the stomach, and then sat at the table with a innocent, sweet expression on her face.
Everyone else, however, was clutching their sides as gales of laughter racked their bodies, with Pietro even managing to roll on the floor in laughter before speedily offering to help Magneto up.
Magneto just glared and stood with all the dignity he could muster, which wasn't all that much, considering the fact that he'd bumped is nose on the way down and it was now bright red and swollen, a la Marcia Brady. Fortunately for him, his helmet covered the injury from prying eyes.
Finally, Magneto took his seat at the head of the large dining room table, and they began to help themselves to the food. Magneto lifted the first spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth, where the spoon collided with his helmet with a loud clank.
Everyone turned to stare, even Victor, who had a chicken leg crammed in his mouth, and Fred, who was well into his second helping of broccoli casserole. They immediately began to laugh uproariously at the sight of the mighty Magneto with mashed potatoes splattered across his helmet.
Magneto glared, though it was, as always, rather ineffective with the helmet, and started to remove the offending headdress. He remembered only too late the reason why he had left it on, as the entire combined teams of bad guys got to see his puffy red nose. And, unluckily for him, they all knew exactly how he had gotten it, said falling incident only occurring a few seconds before, so there were no brave-battle-against-Charles stories that would cut it.
He was a laughingstock.
Mystique could not remember a time when she had laughed this hard. Magneto had managed to make a complete fool of himself so many times in the last half hour she had lost count. She sniggered into her gin as she caught a glimpse of Maggie's poofed up nose through his hands, which were clasped over his face like an embarrassed thirteen year old girl with her first pimple.
She glanced at her kids, as she tended to think of them. Lance was having a difficult time staying in his chair as he watched Pietro rush back and forth with every remedy he could find, from an ice pack to a frozen pork chop. Wanda, of course, was in seventh heaven, and was cackling gleefully and calling out suggestions which, for the most part, earned her glares from her father and snickers from everyone else. Todd and Fred were using this golden opportunity to fill a bag with all the chicken and sides they could fit, then try to figure out a good place to hide the froggy-bag.
The Rascals, with the exception, as always, of Pietro, and strangely enough, Piotr, who was missing, were rolling with laughter at their boss's misfortune.
Charlie just chortled to himself for a little bit, wondering what the Hitler-wannabe would say if he knew he had mashed potatoes on the tip of his nose now, and curious of where Bob Marley had gotten off to. He thought that he'd been in his shirt pocket, but he wasn't there...
Oh well, he couldn't have gotten far, now could he?
A scream suddenly echoed from the kitchen.
****
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
~Persephone
By Persephone
AN: Thanks to Red Witch, Eileen, the Desert Fox, todd fan, and Kelly for your wonderful reviews! As always, they make me a happy bunny. By the way, Desert Fox, the name Rascals did come from Spanky and the Little Rascals. I kind of think of Remy as AlfAlfa... I meant to get this out a little sooner, I've been aiming for a chapter a week, and this one is a day late. Mainly because I've just started spring term, and am at present being overwhelmed with knowledge of Islam and the Old Testament...And I'm not even a religions major. I'm going to quit rambling on now, sorry about that.
So! On with the chapter!
Chapter Four: Of Frozen Pork and Helmets
Finally, finally, 7:45 rolled around, and with that illustrious hour the doorbell rang, because, as I'm sure you all remember, the Brotherhood was standing outside.
Magneto went to open the door himself. Most likely, he had gotten bored sitting in the same position for an hour and forty-five minutes, but he preferred to think that he was doing his host duties.
To Magneto's credit, he only blinked twice and opened his mouth agape four times when he opened the door and saw Charlie, in his giant sombrero, standing on the doorstep holding Bob Marley and singing a little ditty about a monk. (This ditty in limerick form can be viewed, coincidently, on this very website, under the title The Monk, by Persephone.)
Mystique pushed past both Charlie and Magneto, flopped in a chair at the dining table, and requested a strong drink. The Rascals, to their credit, acted as if this was usual. Although, perhaps it was. The rest of the Brotherhood followed suit, though they did not receive strong drinks, for which they were sorely disappointed.
Charlie stopped singing, stuck out the hand that wasn't holding Bob Marley, and announced, "I have come to eat your food."
Magneto glared like a spoiled three year old. "You weren't invited."
Charlie stared at the helmeted mutant for several long minutes. Time stretched out, and stretched further still, and was finally at time's elastic end when Magneto yelled out, "Fine! You're invited!"
"Why, thank you, Mr..."
"I am Magneto. I will someday unite all mutants under my guidance, and we will overpower the weak humans, and I will rule the world." Magneto said in a booming, super-supervillian voice.
"Oh. So you want to be like Hitler." Charlie said, smiling, as he pushed into the Evil Lair.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Magneto shrieked (in the most dignified way possible, of course.)
The Brotherhood and the Rascals stared aghast (Isn't "aghast" quite possible the coolest word in the English language? Nowhere near as cool as nefarious, of course, but still. Aghast is waaaaaay up there on the cool word meter. Opposed to words like ginger or tomorrow. Aghast has style. I'm just going to have to start this paragraph over now.)
The Brotherhood and the Rascals stared aghast as Magneto stormed into the dining room, following a scruffy looking man in denim and flannel wearing a large sombrero, screaming at the top of his lungs like a little girl about how few things he had in common with Adolf Hitler.
I daresay you'd stare aghast, also, when faced with such a sight.
Charlie, however, was not phased by the maniacal madman's ranting and raving, and instead sat down at the large dining room table across from Victor, who greeted Charlie like an old friend. Which I suppose he was.
"What are you going on about?" Mystique asked Magneto finally, when the helmeted man finally took a breather from his rant.
"HE," Magneto said, pointing a shaking finger at Charlie, "had the gall to accuse me of wanting to be like Hitler!"
There was a long pause.
The Brotherhood and Rascals looked at one another, until finally someone got up the nerve to speak.
"Um, don't you?" Pietro asked meekly.
"NO!" boomed Magneto. "I am the concentration camp survivor! Remember? I hate Hitler and all he stands for!"
There was another long pause as every member of the mutant brigade carefully weighed this revelation, and came up to their own personal conclusion about what it meant to them, and how it affected their perception of Magneto as an individual.
They all, however, came to the same conclusion.
"Hypocrite." announced Wanda. Everyone else in the room breathed a sigh of relief when they realized they hadn't been the one to speak.
So with that, Magneto leapt towards Wanda, face screwed up in absolute fury, while Wanda smiled ferally and raised her hands up slowly, preparing to hex the heck out of her father. However, she found this unnecessary when Magneto, during his leap of fury, had caught his toe in his cape, and had fallen in a rather undignified heap at her feet. She settled for a good, swift kick in the stomach, and then sat at the table with a innocent, sweet expression on her face.
Everyone else, however, was clutching their sides as gales of laughter racked their bodies, with Pietro even managing to roll on the floor in laughter before speedily offering to help Magneto up.
Magneto just glared and stood with all the dignity he could muster, which wasn't all that much, considering the fact that he'd bumped is nose on the way down and it was now bright red and swollen, a la Marcia Brady. Fortunately for him, his helmet covered the injury from prying eyes.
Finally, Magneto took his seat at the head of the large dining room table, and they began to help themselves to the food. Magneto lifted the first spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth, where the spoon collided with his helmet with a loud clank.
Everyone turned to stare, even Victor, who had a chicken leg crammed in his mouth, and Fred, who was well into his second helping of broccoli casserole. They immediately began to laugh uproariously at the sight of the mighty Magneto with mashed potatoes splattered across his helmet.
Magneto glared, though it was, as always, rather ineffective with the helmet, and started to remove the offending headdress. He remembered only too late the reason why he had left it on, as the entire combined teams of bad guys got to see his puffy red nose. And, unluckily for him, they all knew exactly how he had gotten it, said falling incident only occurring a few seconds before, so there were no brave-battle-against-Charles stories that would cut it.
He was a laughingstock.
Mystique could not remember a time when she had laughed this hard. Magneto had managed to make a complete fool of himself so many times in the last half hour she had lost count. She sniggered into her gin as she caught a glimpse of Maggie's poofed up nose through his hands, which were clasped over his face like an embarrassed thirteen year old girl with her first pimple.
She glanced at her kids, as she tended to think of them. Lance was having a difficult time staying in his chair as he watched Pietro rush back and forth with every remedy he could find, from an ice pack to a frozen pork chop. Wanda, of course, was in seventh heaven, and was cackling gleefully and calling out suggestions which, for the most part, earned her glares from her father and snickers from everyone else. Todd and Fred were using this golden opportunity to fill a bag with all the chicken and sides they could fit, then try to figure out a good place to hide the froggy-bag.
The Rascals, with the exception, as always, of Pietro, and strangely enough, Piotr, who was missing, were rolling with laughter at their boss's misfortune.
Charlie just chortled to himself for a little bit, wondering what the Hitler-wannabe would say if he knew he had mashed potatoes on the tip of his nose now, and curious of where Bob Marley had gotten off to. He thought that he'd been in his shirt pocket, but he wasn't there...
Oh well, he couldn't have gotten far, now could he?
A scream suddenly echoed from the kitchen.
****
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
~Persephone